It seems to be the season for races. I know they go on all year round, but lately I have been hearing more about them. Locally we have the Turkey Trot, the Jingle Jog and the Thunder Road Marathon that comes right by my house all in the next couple of weeks.
I have turned into a spoil sport when it comes to races. I have never been a runner. I don’t enjoy it, but I never really minded that others did. In fact I would cheer on my friends and Eric for going out there and getting it done. Five days after my youngest son was born I was out there cheering on my husband in a 5K.
No more. I have made my husband promise that he will get a full physical before he attempts any running again. He has chosen to pursue other forms of exercise. I am fearful for my friends who run. I am fearful for the strangers I see on the side of the streets jogging.
I know I have written about this before, but I can’t seem to get over it. It no longer seems like a healthy endeavor to me. It is now fraught with unseen peril.
I will not be able to stop the running, but I am going to do my best to ignore it. I wonder how Eric would feel about this. Running was an activity he loved. I have a suspicion he wouldn’t want me to feel this way, but I can’t help it. Running took him away from me. I can’t come to terms with that.
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